The Stratus

It might have been described as a hub of sin, or a refuge of passion; perhaps it has been called the "height of depravity", or a sanctuary of liberation. No matter what the truth was, the Stratus Hotel was called none of these things. Any hint of such a nature had never been gleaned by those not meant to know it.

The "exclusive services" that were provided by the hotel did not cost any money to enjoy. The currency used in these exchanges was somewhat more unorthodox. Those who paid this price were inclined to believe it was worthwhile.

Should prying eyes steal a peek at the register of the Stratus Hotel, they would see the latest name written there was "David West". There was an omega symbol stamped next to this entry, the significance of which no staff member would be willing to explain.

//

David sat bound to a chair: naked, immobilized and blindfolded with a silk scarf. His wrists were bound in leather cuffs that were firmly attached with canvas straps to the back legs of the chair. His ankles were secured to the sides with similar restraints, splaying his legs and leaving his bare body fully exposed. Though he could wriggle plenty if he wished, David knew there was no escaping of his own will.

He felt the narrow paddle slide along the top of his thigh. From behind him a soft wind chilled his neck as his tormentor blew lightly against his skin. A phantom of a sensation, but he could not ignore the omen that paddle represented. He flexed his leg a bit beneath the touch. He knew the instrument was matte black and entirely smooth. Almost innocuous, still he did not doubt what it could do.

Lady Zia blew softly again across David's neck. She tapped the paddle along his thigh. Light pats up to his hip, downward again, coming so near but never touching his crotch.

Anticipation tugged at his stomach. Was she going to hit him harder? Strike his exposed cock? Would her whims lead him only to pain tonight? He dragged his teeth against his lip, doing his best to keep his questions from bubbling up to the surface.

//

It was inevitable that David's desires would lead him away from the beaten path. It was in his bones, in his marrow. To give himself over to the will of another. The world he lived in seemed poorly designed to accept what he had to give, and he had strayed already to seek out a recipient.

He did not know what waited for him at the edge, what had glimpsed him from the dark, and now drew nearer and nearer.

Like many abyssal realms, this particular one can be approached via the internet. David was online when he got his first warning that he failed to heed. At home, sitting at his desk, he indulged his submissive fantasies by watching bondage and kink videos online. During one very arousing video, David's hand had wandered away from the mouse towards his increasing erection. He had begun pressing a hand against the crotch of his pants when a pop-up got in the way of his video.

"What the-" A black rectangle with starkly blue letters. So much for his ad-blocker. He went to click the x and get back to his video, but stopped short when he read the text.

-Give yourself over.-

That was... ominous? He hovered the cursor over the letters, and as he had suspected, found that it was a link. It was very abrupt, for advertising. David was sure he had never seen it before. There was no indication of what the link was for. Perhaps another porn site? A cam girl? It seemed to be ridiculous, not very persuasive click-bait. He hit the x.

His video had finished, but he felt thoroughly distracted. The words were powerful and had struck a chord with him. Wasn't that exactly what he wanted to do? So how did this message happen to find him? It must be a pop-up triggered by the kind of videos he watched. Yes, it must be. That made sense.

He clicked another video. Wanting to get back to his pleasure. This time the video was only 30 seconds in before a black rectangle popped up in the way.

-Surrender your will.-

Again! But a different one. David hovered his cursor over the words, highlighting the link.

What is this? He thought. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't intrigued. The curiosity was enough to have him fidgeting in his seat. The terribly dangerous idea glowing in his mind:

There's only one way to find out. And wasn't it true?

He shrugged off the foreboding and clicked the link. A new window opened.

Most of what he was looking at was an image of stars leaving trails in the sky, the way they do with a time-elapse camera. Large blue letters were superimposed on the image, and a blank text box waited beneath it for some kind of input.

David pressed his mouth closed in a firm expression of scrutiny, carefully reading the blue text on the screen before him.

-Give yourself over. Surrender your will. Submit your being. Do all these things and be granted my attention. The way is open. Lower your ego and let me in. Enter your name below.-

What about that? Terribly dramatic, cryptic and even so... compelling? David's mind tugged in two directions. On one side he was immobilized and could feel the orders of his self-defense pushing him to shut this message down, wipe his browser history and scan every bite on his computer for threats.

And, on the other side, the simplest instinct. It said "yes, go ahead." And though he knew how indulgent that feeling was, David felt it writhing in his core. Something impossible was calling for him. A primal force. The scariest part of it all was how much he felt drawn to this will. The words were only a shadow of whatever reached out to take him. Only a shadow and he couldn't stop thinking of how much he wanted to be taken.

It was an emotional undertow. No other warnings from his logical side were enough to compete with the force. He clicked the text box beneath the message and typed his name.

D A V I D W E S T. He pressed enter. There was a ringing sound triggered from the web page. A single tinny chime. Then the window shut itself without further explanation.

//

David stood in front of his mailbox. He flipped the envelope over, examining it closely. There were no stamps, no postage marks at all. Nothing faded and no trace of any residual glue. Only a plain envelope with a single blue omega symbol printed on the back.

"Well..." He muttered, not sure what to make of it. Still, there was only one way to find out. He tore open the envelope and slid out the card inside.

It was an invitation. On the front, a vine-bordered field with silvery script announced "You are cordially invited..." and on the inside- something slipped out of the card and fluttered to the floor as David opened it. He fumbled to catch it, but had to pluck the piece of card-stock from the floor. It was a business card for the Stratus Hotel. David raised a brow at it before reading the interior of the invitation.

It read: "...to answer the call of fate. October 3rd. 22:30."

It was signed with the same blue omega. And that was all.

What? Where did this come from?

//

The hook was not even baited, and still David bit. The card should not have been in his mailbox. Could not have innocently arrived there. Not without a dubious explanation. The curiosity triggered in David was a strong enough compulsion to push him out of his home the evening of October 3rd.

David had passed by the Stratus Hotel many times without it truly taking root in his memory. It was a tall, brick and glass structure wedged into a city block with a squat office building on one side and an obscure two-story art gallery on the other. It looked to David like an expensive establishment, to the point that as he passed from the outer vestibule into the lobby he was worried the staff would throw him right back out.

Instead he was beckoned from across the marble entrance hall by the hostess near the door to the cocktail lounge.

"This way," she said, her smile sweet and friendly.

"I-" David glanced over his shoulder, uncertain. No, there was no one else. She meant him, then?

"You're expected, Mr. West," she explained as he made his way towards her.

"Oh," David said, uncertain what to make of that, "I got this, um, card..."

The hostess nodded. "She's waiting for you," the young woman said. She swept her arm towards the lounge entryway and ushered David through.

Around most of the room there were low tables circled by upholstered armchairs. There were patrons dotting the scene, though for the most part it felt fairly quiet. No one seemed to pay David's arrival any mind. The bartender was passing a tray of drinks to a server as he walked past the bar. Where did he go?

His uncertainty lasted less than a breath. At a table by the far wall, a woman stared him down. She had dark hair that flowed in soft waves to her shoulders and pale, nearly colorless eyes.

She wore dark navy suit pants and a blouse made of black linen. The neckline of her top was moderate, revealing the delicate skin of her collar while refraining from exposing any cleavage.

She sat back in her seat, legs crossed and motioned David to approach with a crook of a single finger.

"There you are," she said in a soft, low voice as he drew near.

"Uh, hello," David answered, feeling lost, "I'm not- uh, really sure what I'm doing here."

"You answered the summons," she said, with a smirk showing in the corner of her mouth.

David fumbled to explain himself. "Well..."

"Blue Omega, yes?" The woman asked.

"Yes," he said quickly, as though it were a reflex. Was it quieter in the room, now? David felt a tingle on the back of his neck.

"Yes, of course. You wanted to let me in, David," she said lightly, amused. She rose from the chair. "Follow me."

//

She said nothing more as she moved from the lounge out to the elevators in the hall. Her gait was relaxed and confident. The poise in her movement gave her an air of control over the entire space.

David followed at a modest distance. The feeling of undertow had returned. He was tumbling along towards an unknown future, but his mind was folding beneath a force that he wasn't willing to defy. Or perhaps, that he couldn't.

On the eighteenth floor of the Stratus Hotel, David followed the woman he had met in the lounge into the executive suite. As he shut the door behind them, she broke her silence.

"Lock that door," she said, her tone of voice low but firm. He did as instructed, sliding the deadbolt into place. She walked further into the suite, with David on her heels. She moved at a deliberate pace, with none of the fluster that David had shifting in his limbs.

"My name is Lady Zia," she said. While David watched, she approached the vanity, took the lacquered black chair before it and dragged it out into the open. She turned back to face David. When their eyes met he felt another chill. "You are here to surrender your will."

Lady Zia stared at him and he found he couldn't look away.

"I-" the world spun for a hazy moment. Her grey gaze was striking its way into the core of his mind. He didn't know what he meant to say next, but heard the words coming out. Locked in her magnetic stare, there was nothing else he could do.

David gasped. "I- I am," he said softly. He felt his heart race and the ground was once again solid beneath his feet. Zia grinned, a wide and wicked display.

"Take off your clothes."

//

Lady Zia had placed the chair in front of the bed, facing out into the room. David sat there, his body bound and his mind twisting between excitement and dread.

She was fully dressed when she directed him to the chair. Although he could no longer see her, there was no reason to believe she had undressed. He had been objectified, while she retained her dignity.

Her left hand was on his shoulder, gently rubbing it. With her right she held the black paddle. She bounced it against the top of his thigh.

Pat pat pat... The paddle bounced. She slid her left hand forward onto his chest. Everything was light. David was beginning to relax.

Pat pat pat... Lady Zia felt further down his chest, her thumb flicked over his nipple and she swept her touch back up and repeated the motion, pressing down for slightly more friction.

"Ah..." he let out a satisfied sigh.

Pat pat slap! This time the final hit was a true strike. Stinging against his flesh.

"Agh-" he gasped. It stung, yes, but only for a moment.

Slap slap slap! Now every strike stung the skin.

Slap slap slap! He could feel the heat of the spot she had singled out on his thigh. His attention was zeroed in on that heat to the point he barely registered her hand sliding its way down his side.

Slap slap slap!

"You are so lucky that I want to play with you." Lady Zia commented.

Smack! David hissed through gritted teeth.

Smack smack smack!

"Some toys just don't interest me," she said casually.

Smack smack smack!

"Ugh!" David grunted as his nerves absorbed the fiery pain.

There was a moment's pause.

The paddle was resting on the sore spot. He found he couldn't focus his thoughts beyond the fear that the pain would get worse. That it would keep getting worse until he broke.

Zia lifted the paddle again. David flinched and held his breath, unable to stop either reaction.

Then he felt her finger on his cock. A whisper-soft touch that traced from the tip along his entire length and up his belly a small amount before she lifted away. She next placed two fingers on the tip of his cock and trailed a lazy zigzag along the same path as her first touch. He moaned in a rush of arousal and relief. He could feel himself growing hard under this delicate contact.

The eagerness of his body was obvious. He was exposed and bound before her with no control over what might happen next. As she ran her fingers slyly over his cock for only the third time, he was growing erect and panting a bit.

Zia hummed in approval and laughed softly.

"You're so easy," she remarked. She continued to gently rub his erection. David blushed, embarrassed by his own pleasure. Zia brought the paddle down to his leg, not striking him but slowly pushing into the tender place on his thigh that she had been focusing on.

David grimaced at the renewed pain. As he felt dread rise in him, Lady Zia wrapped her hand in a firm grip around his cock. She slid her hold up and down his shaft, while the paddle still pressed painfully into his leg. He moaned from the stimulus, unable to tell which feeling moved him more.

Zia laughed again. "Look at you. You've got no self-control."

She brought her hand up and slid her thumb back and forth over the head of his cock. He moaned, and Lady Zia slowed the motion down, adding more pressure. David felt his leg tremble. The contact was so wonderful, cutting through the pain she had not relented with. He wanted more. He wanted it all to stop. And for it to go on forever.

"What a needy thing you are," she murmured. "Just melting from all this, aren't you?"

"Y-yes..." David gasped. She let the paddle slap against his leg again, while her other hand squeezed and lightly twisted along his cock. He wriggled and panted under her attention. He felt his arousal building, the precipice of an orgasm drawing closer.

And then she stopped. Her hand had lifted, the paddle was no longer there. Zia was not touching him at all.

"Ah!" The sudden loss of contact made David cry out. His cock twitched and his hips jutted of their own accord.

Zia's laughter was in his ear. "Oh my," she teased, "you need my touch that badly?"

He felt himself aching for it. David made a whine in the back of his throat. He was ashamed but he had no control. She had reduced him to this.

"Tell me you need it," she said sternly.

"I- I need it," said David, his voice strained. Her finger tapped the head of his cock for a moment far too brief to be enjoyed.

"Tell me you need my touch," said Zia.

"I need your touch, I need it!" David said. Her finger swirled on his tip, too light, too gentle.

"Do you want it so bad you'll take the pain?" She asked.

"Ah, yes. Yes!" He hated himself for saying it and still he couldn't help it.

"Beg me to hurt you," Lady Zia urged. She withheld her touch again.

"Please, hurt me!" He said in a ragged voice.

"Again."

"Please! Hurt me!" He cried.

Smack! She struck hard again with the paddle. Her hand gripped his erection and she squeezed and jerked at a brutal pace.

Smack!

Close. So close... David exhaled slowly as the blows of the paddle and strokes of her hand went on. There was no way to block out the intensity crackling through his nerves. It blew like a tempest into every crevice of his mind.

Helpless, powerless, bound, teetering between hazy ecstasy and a high-contrast clarity of the senses, where it was too much to bear and still there was no choice but to withstand it.

And then the release. An intense rush that made him clench and twitch all over. Her touch was gone and he spurted and spilled onto his body. It sent his mind reeling but his body was not entirely satiated. He thrust his hips uncontrollably, wanting so badly for a bit more contact, a bit more pleasure. He would not get more. Gravity rocked beneath him and he took gasping breaths as the experience dissipated.

//

When it was over, Lady Zia had freed one of his hands and left David alone. Unbalanced by his conflicting feelings, David had slowly untied himself and made use of the suite's bathroom to clean his mess.

Was that it? Over and done? What did it mean? What should he do? David had no answers to a stressful amount of questions.

When he had cleaned and dressed, he left the suite. Zia stood in the hall. She smiled and crooked her finger at him again. They retraced their path back to the lounge, both taking a seat at Zia's table. Even after their encounter, she appeared only coolly attentive in his presence.

David waited for her to speak. He felt he had no place to lead the conversation. She sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other.

"Very good," she said. "You are a lovely pawn for me to move around. As long as I wish to do so. Aren't you?"

David blushed, surprised to find that her words were both pleasing and a relief to hear.

"I am," he said dutifully.

"You are what?" She prodded.

"I am your pawn, my lady," said Pawn. A thrill surged his system. It was right. It was so very right.

//

Some time after she had instructed David to return home, Zia sat alone at the table in the back of the cocktail lounge. She reclined, eyes closed, and savored the taste of human lust. The passion, desperation and ecstasy she had siphoned from her first encounter with David was a pleasant glow in her system.

An easy one to lure in, she thought, and yet so deliciously responsive. The hunt for a victim was often a large portion of the fun, but the feast that David's soul would provide made it worth cutting down on the preamble.

"Excuse me, Lady Zia," a voice spoke, interrupting her musing.

Zia opened her eyes. A hotel errand boy fidgeted before her.

"Yes?" She asked, arching her brow.

"Management would like a word with you," he said, rushing the sentence.

Zia nodded and the youth darted off.

Time for a meeting with her boss.